Spinward Fringe Broadcast 3

by Randolph Lalonde

  The new vacsuit had several improvements passed down from the Captain as well as the new rank insignia. It had taken all day to materialize without it's command and control unit. The silver skull was printed on the chest of her vacsuit and long coat along with the five parallel bars that designated her as the Chief of Security on her cuffs. She caught her reflection in the mirror and nodded. Thank God I don't look as tired as I feel, she thought as she tied her hair into a ponytail. With the extra inch of height added by the soles of her combat boots, and the long coat stretching from shoulder to floor she actually looked taller, something she'd had difficulty with in the military, being at the short end of the line. Stephanie made up for it with dexterity, strength training, speed and by keeping her technical skills sharp, but she was always sensitive about her height.

  By reflex she checked the amount of credits she had in her account. She'd done it for years, saving up for her retirement; a ticket on a Lorander colony ship bound for space well outside of the settled areas of the galaxy. This is twice what I'd need. After getting paid our share for the last job we pulled for the Aucharians the entire Samson crew could retire, except for Frost. She chuckled softly and shook her head. Of all the luck, the only job he skips out on in months and it's the biggest the Samson ever pulled. We needed him for that too. If he'd been controlling the maxjack Captain could have led one of the boarding teams himself.

  Stephanie stepped out her door and started wandering the ship. Her first stop was the top level of the interior habitation area, the walkway overlooking the Botanical Gallery. She stepped out of the elevator right behind Ashley. She was in her black bridge uniform, leaning against the railing.

  “Couldn't sleep either?” Stephanie asked as she walked up to the railing and looked down.

  “Nope, too quiet. How about you?”

  Stephanie pointed to her temple. “Too noisy.”

  “Can't stop thinking about?”

  “Security, simulations, communications, you know. Pretty much everything,” she leaned against the railing and looked down into the long, broad oval garden that stretched out for hundreds of meters below. The paths between the planting areas were like green and blue snakes winding between the large patches of black dirt.

  In most places plants were already piercing the soil, reaching upwards. “The seeds and fertilizer have growth enhancers. This'll be fully grown in a week then they'll slow it all down,” Ashley said, looking down with her. “It's big enough for a few hundred people to get lost in with all the planters and extensions through some of the main hallways down there.”

  “This almost makes up for the Lorander plan,” Stephanie said, smelling the earthy fragrance in the air.

  “Are you thinking of leaving us again?”

  Stephanie smiled a little. “Don't worry, I'm staying. Just tired.”

  “Good, 'cause I think I'd have to go with you.”

  “I don't think the Lorander Company would mind one bit. I'm not going anywhere though, I'm just starting to settle in.”

  “Me too, after we left last night I did a couple more hours of tutorials and simulations. I'm getting good at flying Triton, better than flying the Samson,” she sighed. “I love this ship.”

  “You know even with so many aboard we still haven't explored half? Everyone's still filling into what we've cleared.”

  “Really? I thought your guys would have the ship inspected and cleared by now.”

  “All my people are too busy watching everyone else's people. If it weren't for the Aucharians we would have crew wandering everywhere. Nathan's pretty much given me the keys to the kingdom in trade for being my second in command. It's a good thing he wasn't with Jane's squad when they ran into that spy. We've lost so many people while taking this ship,” she crossed her arms on the railing and put her chin down.

  Ashley looked at her friend. She could see her feeling low, tired, and it wasn't something that happened often. Stephanie often looked serious, even quiet, but she was also quick to laugh and an easy conversationalist with friends. “It's not your fault, Steph,” she said, putting her hand on her friend's back. “It's only been a few days and just look around. I stepped out of my quarters and took a shaft here. On the way I counted six guards in pairs. Four of them were just keeping out of the way, watching everyone go by. The other two were giving directions, as easy going as anything. Things are under control, people feel safe. It hasn't even been five days I don't think.”

  “You're right, things have gotten better and it looks like they'll keep on improving.”

  “That's more like it,” Ashley said as she leaned her elbows on the rail and put her chin down on her hands. “Now I just have to figure out how to get Finn put back together.”

  “Captain hasn't forgotten him. I caught him looking at using whatever tech is inside him to help. That framework system. We don't have anyone aboard who can figure it out though.”

  “How can we have so many people aboard without one real doctor? I mean Grace is good, but she's the first to tell everyone she's not fully qualified.”

  “It's the luck of the Samson. We got by on emergency nanos and automatic diagnostic and medication machines most of the time. I'm sure Captain will get us to port so we can get him help.”

  “I know, it's just hard knowing he's stowed away.”

  “You really liked him.”

  “I don't know Steph. I think I was bouncing out of my thing with Silver.”

  “Finn wouldn't toss you like Silver did.”

  “I know, he's so nice.”

  “Did you say something about not finding a doctor on board?” Asked a salt and pepper haired woman from behind. She was wearing a loose skirt and high, sleeved corset top. “There's one in habitation here. He saved Gerry when an AI tried to dose him to death.”

  Ashley's eyes went wide. “Where is he?”

  “He's on the second level, just over there,” she pointed to an apartment door across the way. “Probably still asleep though, we were all up late last night. He's called Doctor Eugene Marsters.”

  “I'm going to leave him a message,” Ashley stated as she looked him up on her command and control unit.

  “You are?” Stephanie asked.

  “I'm Linda,” the woman nodded. “I have to be going, my husband should be up soon.”

  “Thank you Linda,” Stephanie said, taking her hand and shaking it briefly. “What do you and your husband do?”

  “We're astrophysicists. I'm wondering if you could do us a favour?”

  “What can I do?” Stephanie asked.

  “This ship has a long range sensor array, do you think we could get access to it sometime?”

  “I'll talk to the Captain. I'm sure he'll give you time with it once things calm down a bit. I'm Chief Vega, by the way.”

  “I know, the hologram of you saving Gunnery Chief Frost is out, everyone saw it.”

  Stephanie was surprised but smiled after a moment. “I haven't seen it.”

  “Most people are pretty impressed, I just like having guards around who don't interfere with anything we're doing. Some have stayed behind to help after their shifts. Keep it up,” Linda said before moving off.

  Ashley finished sending her message and checked the time. “I have to be on the bridge in fifteen,” she looked excited, like she could break into dance at any second.

  “Think you could concentrate while waiting for the Doc to get back to you?”

  “I'll have to, I have a whole shift ahead of me. Oh God I hope he can help.”

  “I hope so too. Everyone liked Finn,” Stephanie agreed. “Just take it easy if he gets put back together again, take it slow. You don't want to rebound off this one.”

  Ashley bounced on her heels and nodded. “Yup. I gotta go,” she hugged Stephanie briefly and they both set off for the forward lift.

  The Tour

  Captain Valance walked through Hangar One looking at the piles of big and small parts. The largest of which was the majority portion of a two h
undred ninety meter long hauler that looked like it had been torn apart on one rear quarter when its hyperspace emitters failed. It was a good pick for salvage, if that's what he were interested in, but there was an oppressively foul smell coming from it. They never bothered to remove the dead. He shook his head and moved on. What kind of ship was Wheeler running? He asked himself, not for the first time.

  The sitting room in the Captain's quarters was a wreck. He had to seal it during the gathering the night before so no one could see it. There were bottles everywhere, even a broken one that looked like it had been stepped on. Old clothes, a half disassembled small engine of some kind, entertainment cards, a game board torn in half, and other oddities were strewn across the stained and disused furniture. He couldn't wait until Liam could make time to get a team working on bringing the cleaning and general maintenance bots back on line. He'd set a pair of them onto the official Captain's quarters and just walk away for a week.

  Not a priority. He thought to himself as he looked at three fighters piled in a pyramid. The top one was turned upside down so its cockpit canopy was squeezed between the two on the bottom. So many things still aren't a priority. The ship's calming down, smaller grievances will start crossing my command panel, and I'll be saying that more and more. I can hear myself now; 'I'm sorry ma'am, strawberries from the materializer will never taste like the real thing, I can't spare maintenance people to recalibrate your unit. Again, it's just not a priority.'

  Assistant Deck Chief Paula Mendle came through one of the double doors leading to the hanger to hanger walkway. “Good morning Captain, you shouldn't be here. It isn't safe,” she said with finality.

  “I want this entire deck cleared today,” he ordered, ignoring her comment. Her tone was a constant source of irritation.

  “I'll have to find out what the Chief's plans are first,” she rebutted.

  “Do you have Hanger Two set for a few ships to land?”

  “We have five hundred square meters sir.”

  “How big is the entry?”

  “Just over twenty.”

  “Not enough, I want everything that doesn't start as is pushed out into space or into a mass recycler by the end of the day. Everything you keep must be stowed at the back of the hangar or in long term storage.”

  “The mass recycler on this flight deck doesn't work,” Paula contested, putting her hands on her hips.

  “Then it all goes, set it adrift and if we need the raw materials for recycling drag parts back in,” Captain Valance answered, turning towards her. They faced off, looking down a roughly cleared aisle between the waste parts and hulks of ships. “That's an order, Assistant Chief.”

  “Chief Vercelli won't like it,” she said with a scowl.

  “Then he can make his concerns known to me. Do we have a problem?”

  Paula just scowled at him.

  “Speak freely, because at this point I'm wondering if we shouldn't leave you out at the next port. Anyone who doesn't pay attention to what's going on, doesn't listen, is dangerous.”

  “Where do you get off telling us how to run a flight deck? How to keep a hangar?”

  “No need to answer that sir, I'll take care of this,” Angelo said from the walkway doors.

  “I want him to answer. A week ago we were serving on a deck that knew what to do with us. Just left us to do our work the right way,” Paula shouted at him. “Now we're here, and he thinks he knows everything.”

  “You're wrong. The Captain here expects me to make the right decisions, asks me about why I go about things a certain way all the time, but when he gives an order it's for a reason, it's for the good of the entire ship. How convenient it is for us doesn't make a difference,” Angelo answered in a mild tone.

  “He's right, Assistant Chief. There's another reason why you should just take my order as law, aside from the fact that I'm your Captain. Sometimes you don't get to know why an order's given, you don't have the rank to find out and it's even better at times that you don't ever learn more than you have to.”

  “This isn't a military ship! We deserve to know what's going on, we're all volunteers! Or at least we may as well be for the chump fodder we're getting paid!”

  “If that's the way you're thinking, then find an emergency shuttle with a hyperdrive and get off my deck,” Captain Valance said flatly. “If you haven't noticed, everyone here, even the civilians, know this ship is out here to fight Regent Galactic, maybe even the Eden Fleet, and they're doing their part. The few who aren't in line are squared away in the brig.”

  “We're just one ship, what's the point?” Paula asked, looking from Angelo to the Captain.

  Jake turned to Chief Angelo Vercelli. “You know the options here. Straighten her out, check her into the brig, or send her off on her own. Until then, get this hangar clear.”

  “Aye sir,” Chief Vercelli replied.

  “Don't just ignore me!” Paula screamed.

  “Hey!” Captain Valance rounded on her, furious. “If you're making sense, using that impressive brain of yours, and following orders, you'll have my respect and a place on my crew. If you start shouting and screaming, ignoring what's right in front of you and questioning your senior officers, I'll cut you out. You won't be welcome in my chain of command and I'll put you off the ship.” He turned on his heel and strode to the nearest lift.

  A Short Walk Over A Great Distance

  Stephanie took her second look at the main Gunnery Deck. The floor was polished to gleaming, the rail cannon turrets were arranged in ready rows, hanging half way down to the deck leaving a three meter clearance for anything to move under them. Along one wall was a neat row of armoured combat suits, standing a meter and a half each with their reinforced exoskeleton, armoured plating and fully articulated arms, hands and legs. There was high durability display surfaces on the shoulders, cuffs and chests of all of them to output damage, rank and other information. The armour segments, supports and hardened joints were alternatively painted blue, white or left polished silver. Their short, oval heads were armoured sensor suites, transmitters and were heavily constructed so lifters could pull and move the suits from above.

  A few crew members were inspecting the armour while four of her security guards watched the cargo sized express car and the main doors to the deck. They were following standing orders, keep watch over every major entrance and wherever there were large gatherings of crew members. She had enough people to be hyper vigilant, and her security staff needed something to do. So aside from running a quarter of them through simulations at a time, they made sure everyone else was on the ship for the right reasons, going where they needed to be, and staying away from dangerous or sensitive areas.

  One of the armoured suits stepped forward and waved. The chest plates came apart to reveal Frost. “They're used up here mostly to load the cannons, but I'd hate to be a boarding crew trying to take this deck.”

  She couldn't help but smile at him. He looked very pleased with himself. “Thought I'd take one for a walk before most of my gunnery crew arrived for their first day of training.”

  “How are they checking out?”

  “These machines are in great shape. Most of 'em were put in storage for near forty years. Just needed a recharge.”

  “Not the armour, the crew.”

  “Lots o' failed pilots, most of 'em qualified on cannons easy enough. We have enough mechanics, even a few who are trained on combat armour pretty close to what we have here. You did good.”

  “I can't take the credit. The head hunter agency just went by your criteria.”

  “Well, still. I've got enough to run a full gunnery crew, even after Captain told me to cherry pick eighty of my best for the heavy artillery. I just hope they can hit a target,” he undid the belts that kept him strapped in and started to step out of the tall suit.

  His gunnery crew wore dark grey, centimetre thick vacsuits with extra tool pouches built onto their thighs. Only Frost and his second in command, who hadn't arrived yet, had a sku
ll printed above the ship title on his chest. Everyone else in his gunnery crew only had Triton printed there and it would remain that way until he decided they were ready to be counted amongst the permanent crew. Five bars on his cuffs, slanted towards the backs of his hands marked him as the Gunnery Chief. “You're obnoxious enough to get them in shape,” she teased.

  A few of the crew who were starting early, inspecting the suits laughed until Frost jerked his head in their direction. He looked back at her and winked. “Aye, my boys'll shred in time. Why don't you step up here and give the armour a try?” he invited, standing on one of the big grey and blue machine's boots. “It's part of the tour, y'know.”

  She hesitated, looking at the hollow cavity inside.

  “Come on, it's like wearin' a second skin once you're used to it. Only this big boy can lift a hundred tons like it's laundry.”

  Stephanie shrugged and started taking off her combat boots. “May as well. Half my people are trained in one of these already.”

  Frost raised an eyebrow.

  “Don't even think of poaching them for your loading crew,” she cautioned. “I'll make it more trouble than it's worth.”

  “Aye, aye, I'll keep my hands off your crew,” he said. “My boys'll move in these like they were born to 'em soon enough anyhow.”

  She took her long coat then her gun belt off and put them on top of her boots. After looking at the machine for a moment, she stepped onto its foot, then its knee and grabbed a handle just under its left shoulder plate.

  “Now take hold of one o' the arm sockets inside with one hand,” Frost instructed patiently.

  Stephanie did.

  “Now use it to steady yourself an' turn round.”

  She followed his instructions carefully and found herself sitting on the bottom edge of its chest cavity. Taking the next logical step, she pulled herself up, drew her legs up to her chest and dropped down inside.